


Cosmic Strings

by Iselea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: -Ish, Alternate Universe, Child Tony, Crack, Crossover, Friendship, Master of Death Harry Potter, MoD!Harry, OOC characters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Avengers (2012), Pre-Iron Man 1, Sassy Harry, TONY GETS A FRIEND HE NEEDS, basically a feelgood fanfic for me, harry has been reincarnated a few times, no decided pairings yet, young Tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 04:36:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18381080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iselea/pseuds/Iselea
Summary: What if Harry Potter gets trapped in the mind of a young Tony Stark? How much can the ever-reincarnating wizard change?(My own take on Harry traveling to MCU)





	1. Chapter 1

Harry wakes up in cold sweat, vision still blurry and unfocused as he struggles to sit up— a bad decision; a head-splitting headache comes and he promptly lies back down, hoping to make it stop.

And that was just the icing on the cake.

His chest heaves quickly like he’s just ran a marathon, adrenaline flowing through his veins. He feels way off kilter, like he’s wearing the wrong skin and his mind caged in—

His thought process immediately _reels_ , breaths coming in short as Harry realizes that he, the not-so-recently crowned Master of Death, is not supposed to be dead yet, not in his recent lifetime at least.

Oh, _bugger._

Something called him here, in this world, and killed his supposedly ‘new’ life.

Harry has lived three lifetimes now, and always knew when his time is near; his ‘previous’ life had been anything but near death. He knows that as much as he knows that this body _isn’t meant for him_.

Harry looks around the wide room, from the smell of antiseptic and the IV drip currently attached to his hand, to his bandaged wounds and concludes he is in a hospital.

(He snorts to himself. Might as well get a bloody gold star for that.)

Merlin, against all odds Harry hopes he’s just tripping from hospital drugs, the body is of a child’s but it just feels so foreign that he knew as much as the color of the sky is blue that this is already _owned_. There’s another mind and soul residing in it.

As if summoned by his very thoughts, the _owner_ speaks, **_‘Who are you?’_**

Control was suddenly ripped from his grasp and his mind fumbles around unsteadily. Harry realizes can’t feel his magic. He feels too weak to resist anything.

 ** _‘Who are you?’_** Harry’s not-voice persists its questioning in his own mind, not mindful of the bubbling panic Harry is feeling.

Apparently, the owner feels just the same.

 ** _‘Who are you! Get out! Get outgetoutget—_** **’** The voice demands, as angry and confused.

Harry wants to call for Death, to demand an explanation, but he already feels as though he is wading into a swamp threatening to sink him.

Magical exhaustion. Harry must have ended up here by something somehow channeling his magical reserves. This trip dangerously toed the line of completely robbing him of every last drop of his magic. Has Harry unknowingly latched on to the nearest available being?

There are too many questions Harry has, ones that no one around has the answer to.

Exhausted and tired, Harry stops struggling and lets himself sink, slipping from the hurried grasp of Other trying bring his to consciousness again.

ooOooOoo

_“Master.” Came a familiar wispy voice._

_Harry couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Death’s voice was too far away and he could only strain to hear them._

_“Master, Your cycle has been interrupted. I can’t call your soul back. Not unless you harvest your summoners’ souls.”_

_Harry is no stranger to death, but accepting as he is of it and not interfering with its natural claim in the world, taking a life himself is...different._

_A remnant of his saving-people thing maybe; for all the good it did on his first life. Harry soon learned to curb that if he could help it. Giving into it only managed to burn him out, everyone all the more glad to take and take until Harry could be of no use anymore. Dying a martyr once again is crossed off any bucket list, thank you very much._

_Still though, Harry would have to reserve his judgment on the poor blokes who summoned him. If he can find them miraculously._

_“I can’t help you, Master. You’re in a different dimension altogether. One where the universe works and governs differently. Death… Death there is different.”_

_The voice fades._

_That unhelpful wanker._

oOooOo

Harry still couldn’t wrap his head around it— to be someone riding the metaphorical shotgun in a metaphorical stranger’s car— Harry suspects that neither of them does really, but all the metaphorical car seemed to play is all mathematical and scientific equations that tends to get way too loud for him to even _think_.

The child is no less hostile, but there is no threat of him going as hysterical as Harry had. The kid had wasted no time in talking to his again. His first question is, unsurprisingly, to the point: **“Can you get out of my head?”**

He reminds Harry of Draco when they were younger; a typical spoiled, arrogant brat. Harry didn’t even need to use the kid’s sight for proof; the kid’s memories would sometimes stray and show Harry a snippet of his childhood. The memorable ones in particular— but not in the least bit happy— are of the kid’s parents and their high expectations the kid wants to match.

 _“I can’t.”_ Harry answers helplessly. This is one of the last places he’d _ever_ want to wake up in his list, right below waking up in a sadistic murderer’s house.

Yeah. No one wants to be a certain Stabby McStab’s Stab-able teddy bear either.

Is stab-able even a word?

Harry yelps, feeling a tug on him. He feels the kid’s spike of guilt before it was buried down other confusing emotions. Harry could read worry from the kid, and an intense feeling of discomfort.

The kid didn’t seem to be comfortable with silence.

Something paternal in Harry softens.

It isn’t either of their fault they’re in this situation. _He’s just a kid._ Having someone in your head would bother _anyone_ greatly, and so far Harry is lucky he’s been taking it like a champ. _“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’ll find a way out somehow.”_

Harry feels the feels the tug of exhaustion take him to unconsciousness before the kid can even reply.

oOooOo

 _“So what’s your name?”_ Harry starts this time, looking over the kid’s vision to see him playing the piano, reading the notes effortlessly and gliding his hands through the keys. Harry never learned to play any musical instruments, much less read notes, in any of his lifetimes so far but he somehow managed to be able to read it and _know_.

Creepy. The knowledge is probably from being inside the head. Which is altogether _creepier_ , but they have both established that they can both do nothing about it.

He feels the kid’s thought of suspicions brush against him, and Harry bristles before he forces herself to stay still. The kid stops playing.

**“How do I know you’re not a spy?”**

Harry gives a mental shrug _. ”I’m stuck here. I assure you I am not doing anything with your person while you’re unconscious. And no I am not an alien.” As far as Harry knows anyway._

A spike of amusement. Harry isn’t deluded enough to think the kid doesn’t know any profanities. The kid presses on. **“So you won’t harm me?”**

 _“I don’t hurt people willingly. Especially not kids._ ” Harry pauses when he feels the kid’s defiant emotion— he didn’t like being called a kid and its implications— before continuing. Harry knows by now that being as transparent as possible will be the key to trust and less misunderstandings.

 _“I don’t mean any harm.”_ Harry says and he _means_ it. The mind hitchhiker could only hope the kid could sense his earnest words.

There was silence for a while, until the kid moves to play another composition, soft tones soothingly ringing in the room.

**“…Anthony Edward Stark”**

It isn’t quite an apology, but Harry knows he’s handing it to him like one. The proverbial olive branch.

_“I’m Harry.” He happily supplies. “I guess I’ll be your soulmate until further notice”_

Anthony, the brilliant child that he is, only groans.

It was the start of a bizarre, yet beautiful friendship.


	2. Chapter 2

1982, Summer.

Anthony

 

Anthony was twelve when he suddenly collapsed; suddenly blacking out in the middle of going down the stairs

He could hear panicked voices and people touching him, but he could never really remember what happened aside from the very very painful ache that made him feel like his brain was splitting as he fell.

The doctors said he was lucky he didn’t break his neck. Said the headache was natural as _he hit his head after all_.

Yet there was something else that Anthony felt was different; the reason why he collapsed in the first place. Yet they couldn’t find what was wrong with Anthony besides the injuries, and he doesn’t know either which is _bad_ , because Anthony wants to _know_.

Wants to know why he feels so strange. That when the pain had dulled and he was declared completely fine the feeling never went away. He felt as if he was never alone.

Like there was always someone in the room with him.

Anthony is scared because he doesn’t know.

And he felt it even more when the presence _shifts_ , blooming in his mind. If Anthony closes his eyes, maybe he can even see colors splash and spread. Like _life_ coming about.

It’d different, It’s foreign and Anthony wanted it _out out outout-_

\--but catches himself when he feels the presence’s emotions beside his own, alive and vibrant. It felt like _someone,_ which isn’t possible. A human can’t share another mind with someone. Someone can’t get into another one’s head and all those stories about ghosts and possessions aren’t logically possible _at all._

Is Anthony getting possessed?

He tries to catch the presence as it shrinks; hiding away from Anthony’s consciousness, but his fumbling only left him half fallen from his hospital bed.

 

*

 

Anthony couldn’t feel the presence as strong as it did when it was awake, but the second time it comes around Anthony realizes that the presence -Harry, Anthony learns- didn’t turn out to be like anything Anthony expected.

Days after Harry “woke up”, Anthony became busy drawing up all theories and conclusions he could, careful not to let anyone else see it or notice it.

Anthony didn’t want to be insane. A Stark _cannot_ be crazy.

He doesn’t feel crazy.

Anthony is a child of science through and through, and he had tried several times to _make sense_ of Harry, coming up with several theories that when he told to Harry; had directed an overwhelming feeling of amusement and held-back laughter to their ‘link’.

Harry’s mirth and goodwill assured the unsettled parts of Anthony somewhat.

 

*

 

_“If you close your eyes you can feel my emotions. I can feel yours too._ ”

_“But how?”_

_“It’s magic Anthy.”_ Harry says lightly, calling Anthony by a stupid nickname that _definitely_ isn’t growing on him. Anthony swears he could almost feel Harry’s grin. _“You’re not crazy. I do exist and magic is real, I promise.”_

_Promises don’t mean much to Anthony, who’s had many people break so many on him, but the young genius could feel Harry’s ever-present sincerity._

_Harry’s never lied to Anthony, and if he can’t trust his own feelings then he could at least trust the nature he’s felt from him so far._

_Against Anthony’s own nature, he decides to believe._

_(Again.)_

_“Okay.”_

 

*

 

Harry

 

Finding out a way to dislodge his existence from Anthony’s was easier said than done.

Thanks to Harry’s oversensitivity to magic due to his current state, he could feel that magic here is much more abundant; not permeating and as malleable as back ‘home’, but far more rich and hardy.

Harry know for a fact that the dormant magic would make his magical spells potent and stronger, but harder to manipulate and execute. ‘Magic’ here wasn’t at all like what Harry had been used to. The difference was as obvious as knowing when a cake was made with an entirely different flour.

Good news is that Harry is recovering his magic at a higher rate than normal. The bad one is that he isn’t quite sure if he can use it and use it _safely._

But there _is_ magic and that, if nothing else, gives Harry hope. There could be other wizards out there that could help him, along with someone that knows how to get back to his dimension, without having to risk experimenting and channeling magic through Anthony.

Harry still has precious people to watch over, still has to make sure that his friends’ legacies and wills are maintained. Harry never might have committed to a partner (to _Ginny_ ) but he had committed to his _friends_ , and watching over their descendants while he soaked up more knowledge about his own world.

Harry can’t do much of anything at the moment though, not when his... host (Harry _tries_ not to cringe and feel like a parasite preying on the kid) is still far too young and vulnerable should Harry accidentally place him in danger.

Anthony was taking all of this better than any child possibly could, even trying to adjust in his own way so _Harry_ wouldn’t that be uncomfortable. He reminds Harry, a little bit, of Draco; Proud of his family and almost bordering on haughty at times, but never managed to properly connect to kids his age and thus, was lonely. The uncanny intelligence in Anthony and the maturity that had developed left the child in the same state and desperate for recognition from his peers and adults alike.

Harry quite literally crashing into his life rendered Anthony vulnerable to _his_ influence and try as Harry might not to interfere or hamper the young genius’ mental growth, he doesn’t know how Anthony would take it when Harry stays long enough for him to depend on only to disappear.

Harry wanted to distance himself to prevent that, to take over control whenever Anthony himself was resting so as to prevent that, but Harry couldn’t abuse Anthony’s trust like that.

(It was a sick and violating and Harry’s had people do it to him before).

Anthony is in a precarious position psychologically, and if Harry had to do with very limited control and compromises just so the child would turn out _fine_ he would do so.

Anthony might remind him a little bit of Draco, but the child also reminds Harry a lot of _himself._ Harry doesn’t need to be a wizard to recognize a fledging self-destructive tendency when he sees one.

 

*

 

Harry decides to wait, and spends time with Anthy. (Like he hadn’t been roped into it by mysterious forces, the damned luck.)

Anthony working on his inventions is something like magic, if Harry is to be honest. Mostly for the fact of how he could feel the young genius’ mind flowing easily, passing through Harry like a gently running stream very easily. There was a lot Anthony knows about engineering and science, and it shows a lot of character when Anthony encounters a problem and never gives up finding a way around it, soaking up knowledge like a sponge along the way.

Anthony in his element, Harry found, is when the child is at his brightest.

Harry should be used to the child’s focused determination by now; he had been the object of being grilled about magic several times, and even when Harry couldn’t actually get into the technical sides of it Anthony still had come up with several interesting ideas if it could ever be possible to blend it with the current technology.

Which, at the moment, actually raises a few questions.

_“Anthony, what year is it?”_ Harry waits several moments, feels the stream slightly stuttering from his misdirection, before Anthony processes the question.

“It’s 1982, Harry **”** There was a questioning note.

_“If we take out this different dimension thing out of the equation, I’m actually currently decades back from the future.”_

_“Wait, really? How old are you?”_ Anthony pauses at his task, interested.

_“Old. Haven’t you learned not to ask someone’s age?”_ More than a century old, but Harry thinks, but feels as if that was irrelevant. His mind had never deteriorated with age, and so he felt as if his maturity and wisdom had never quite developed along with it.

_“That only applies to ladies Harry._ ” Anthony answers cheekily, then hides a grin at Harry’s horrified state when he follows up with; _“So does that mean an old man is rooming with me in my body?”_

_“Please never utter those words again.”_

_“But it’s true.”_

_“Doesn’t mean you have to say it like that.”_ Harry tries to repress an internal shiver. The situation is already as weird as it is.

Anthony shrugs non-committal _“Technology here must bum you out then.”_

_“It doesn’t.”_ Harry reassures Anthony. _“Technology back home didn’t really agree with magic, didn’t have the chance to actually experience living with non-magic people so everything I’ve been experiencing is… interesting to say the least.”_ It reminds Harry that there are still a lot of things to know, to study. And really, what other things to do does Harry have other than learning? _“It’s been educational.”_

Anthony puffs up, proud. _“Well, my dad IS the pioneer of the current technology. I’m his successor, so of course I’d be knowledgeable.”_

_“Brat.”_ Harry calls him out fondly. _“It’s not your father that’s helping me now though isn’t it? Or putting all the hard work in learning? That’s all you Anthy.”_

Anthony provides no answer, and Harry decides it’s time for him to rest.

He doesn’t call out Anthony on his embarrassment, or the pleased smile that he felt as Anthony returned to the task at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOI LEMME TELL U HOW MUCH TIMES I CORRECTED MYSELF FROM WRITING TONY INSTEAD OF ANTHONY. I figured since Tony is a kid and all he won’t get that nickname until he’s much older, and like, rebellious to his father. There is, not so surprisingly, a lot of ground to cover about everything, and I’m trying my best to place facts as slowly as I could and not, you know, shove it in your brains. Which I think I might have done already? Hopefully not.
> 
> This chapter was a bitch to write, it went through a lot of drafts but hey. It’s here. If it’s far too serious for your liking I’m sorry, no other revisions felt as right as this one did.
> 
> Thoughts? Please leave a comment just so I’d at least have a clue on how I’m doing so far. Thank you very much for all your positive attentions ^^


	3. Chapter 3

– Anthony –

When Anthony comes to, he was in a different place.

It was a very different room from the one he had slept in. He grew up in that room, _of course Anthony is sure that this isn’t his room._

He doesn’t feel like he’s dreaming, but somehow, Anthy knows he’s unconscious.

He still this up as a dream.

Anthony couldn’t discount anything strange happening to him now as impossible now, he senses only doing so won’t be good for his sanity.

The room could be described as dark, though not for the lack of lighting; the room was lit up nicely enough by the small chandelier in the middle of the room and a few candles by the side. It was from the decorations; from the intricate wooden dresser to the antique-looking bed that had a carved lion in front, it all screamed Old World to Anthony.

He was lying down the said bed, which was a lot more comfortable than the one he had slept in, and when he rose up to knock on the smooth pillar of the four poster bed, he felt or heard nothing out of the ordinary. Just the ordinary “thunk” of his knuckles against wood.

Padding quietly to the only door, Anthony opened it and stuck his head out to the hallway. It followed the same theme of his room, dark and rustic lit up by bright candles, with several doors leading to the unknown and a plush red carpet in both directions of the hallway.

Anthony would probably have it in him to be scared, if not for Harry’s comforting presence around. Anthony could feel him nearby, and it didn’t take long for him to follow where he could feel it strongest; a few doors down right. The only room he had seen with double doors.

Is this Harry’s mind?

Yet before he could reach the door, Anthony felt himself fall.

.

“Good morning Sir” Jarvis greeted him, pushing open the curtains to let in the light. Already Anthony could smell breakfast, wafting pleasantly from the cart he had brought in.

Anthony groaned. He buried his face in his pillow, debating with himself if he could sleep and achieve the same ‘dream’ and tentatively reached out in his mind. **_‘Harry? What just happened?’_**

He feels his other uneasily shift, confused. _‘I don’t know. But that felt... different. What did you see Anthy?’_

**_‘A dream with you. It’s weird though, like I was about to see you.’_ **

Anthony sat up at this point, giving up the pretense of trying to sleep to glare at the sun for shining too brightly for his eyes. Harry turned silent but was giving off a slight feeing of amusement.

_‘Maybe you were.’_

**_‘Huh.’_** Anthony should feel scared, but all he can feel is a slight bit of trepidation and curiosity. He wonders if he can will the same result again. He unconsciously moves to eat, prodded by Harry right before his eyes linger too long at the sun.

Right before Jarvis leaves, he reminds Anthy that his parents were to come home in an hour and _oh._ Anthy has completely forgotten about that.

Anthony rushes off to fix up his work room, excited. His parents are finally back! Sure, they got back later than they should, but they’re _back_ and Anthy can’t wait to show his father his engine!

Maybe, _maybe_ he’ll be proud then and smile at him along with his mom.

So Anthy showers and dresses up, Harry helpfully pointing out a few things like fixing his hair or sleeve, and he _waits_.

 

– Harry –

 

The older Starks reminds Harry of one of those pureblood parents, which he should have expected really.

Howard Stark has this air of deliberateness about him, stoic and sharp. The way he regards Anthy when the genius comes up to them was not with warm eyes or a welcoming hug, but with only a brief acknowledgement.

Maria Stark meanwhile has gentle and regal countenance. She bends down to hug Anthy briefly and kisses his cheek.

Out of either of them, Harry could easily place his bets on the latter one being the ‘better parent’.

“I trust you’ve been doing well Anthony?” Howard Stark intones, more out of formality than anything else.

Anthy bows his head slightly, answering “Yes dad. I just built this really cool motorbike engine; will you see it?”

Harry remembers that one. Anthony had been working on that for more than two weeks now, and almost whenever Harry doesn’t suggest any other activity to him.

Building that one had clearly been one of Anthony’s greatest achievements. Had Harry not been almost as personally been there, he wouldn’t even understand how in the bloody hell it works.

It’s certainly nothing any other children could make.

“Ah, yes. The V2 engine. Jarvis has told me about it.” Howard nods, a stiff thing. “I expect you’ll do better next time.” And he leaves.

He’s seems to be doing well in fatherhood. Doing as well as a man could treat a hot potato that is.

Harry reaches out to give Anthony a comforting feeling as Maria puts a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “Don’t mind your father Anthony. He’s just tired. It was a long trip darling.”

Anthony swallows, pushing down his own uneasiness as he gives a shaky smile at his mother.

Harry had never wanted to hug the kid so much as right now.

That and give a certain Stark senior a talking.

Or a hex.

Or both. You’ll never know.

Needless to say, Howard didn’t make the best of first impressions to Harry.

.

Harry sleeps the whole afternoon, deciding to let the mother and son catch up alone. When evening comes, Harry finds out they’re expected tomorrow evening to attend a charity function with the older Starks. Harry is sure not much will be expected of Anthy besides behaving properly, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit of trepidation for Anthy’s sake.

Weeks of being with the young genius gave Harry the knowledge that Anthy doesn’t play well with others his own age and would most likely dismiss them outright, but Harry knows that Anthony gets easily lonely, and so hopes that there’s at least one egg out there that would end up getting along with Anthony.

While it’s still early though, Harry has plans. Anthony is still sulking and it’s up to him, of course, to make the boy feel better.

_“Come on Anthy! I want brownies and it’s not going to make itself.”_ Harry pleads, putting up mental images of their huge kitchen insistently.

Harry feels Anthony wrinkle his nose, arms crossing together. **_“No but we can make the maids do it. I don’t get why we must do it Harry. I’ve never even handled an oven”_**

Harry grins _“It’s never too late to learn. Plus I want to make sure it’s made just how I like it! It’ll be fun I promise.”_

**_“Harry. What will I say to the maids? I’m not supposed to do those kinds of labor.”_ **

_“Anthy that’s ridiculous. It’s your kitchen.”_

**_“No it’s my parent’s. and I was going to start on a new project today”_ **

_“Nonsense. There’s plenty of other days. I want to bake today.”_

**_“…Harry…”_ **

Sensing the telltale signs of defeat, Harry immediately pounced on it.

_“Please Anthy? I promise I won’t burn the house down. I’ll teach you all I know! ”_

Anthony purses his lips

_“Sweets makes everything better.”_

Anthony sighs.

**_“We’ll ask Jarvis.”_ **

Harry desperately tries not to let smugness leak through.

.

When they find Jarvis and tell him about it, the man had seemed _very_ surprised, but to Harry’s relief did not push the issue further after Anthony rejected the suggestion of letting their maids do it.

Jarvis supplied Anthony with a several recipes of baking brownies, and after making the few maids in the kitchen leave, proceeded to silently hover over Anthony as Harry supplies Anthony with the specific recipe he has in his own mind. Anthony pretends to read over what Jarvis gives him as Harry does so.

Anthony’s movements were awkward as Harry directs him, but soon gets into the rhythm of it, thoughts rolling smoothly as they both concentrate on the tasks. When Harry felt surer, they made Jarvis help them on things like preparing some of the other ingredients.

It was a relaxing affair, only interrupted by Anthony slipping over spilled milk and Harry’s laughter ringing at the back of his mind while Jarvis worriedly attends to him. Harry knew Anthony isn’t mad, and easily picked himself up as they finish baking.

Harry almost felt like _he_ smelled the chocolatey goodness of the brownies out of the two of them first, and he is _excited to get a taste._

Anthony stands unblinking at the fresh batch, and calmly picks one of the cooled ones up. It’s still warm, but it easily melts into his mouth. The younger boy pointedly ignores Harry’s satisfied noises as he chews thoughtfully.

“How is it Sir?” asked Jarvis as the butler cleans up their mess.

Harry perks up from his blissed state. _“Do you like them Anthy??”_

“…It’s good.”

The brownie is warm and slightly sweet, the taste of chocolate a bit heavy. Anthony isn’t that fond of sweet stuff like Harry does, but Harry feels the satisfaction bleeding out of Anthy as the boy eats them.

Like this, Anthy feels content.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. I did it! Not much plot stuff in this chapter, but next chapter should get something rolling.   
> Thank you for all the love! They keep me going and inspired <3


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